Saturday, October 29, 2011


I have migrated to Tumblr. Again, and finally.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Lament by Wayne Koestenbaum

I want to stop being a person.
If only there were a choice--
a rat or signet ring
one could become--a waterfall

or the rocks the water lands upon, or an alien child
picking up a wet stone, drying it with a pocket rag,
taking it home, and placing it on his bureau top
so that other aliens can touch and admire it.

There is no choice, however.
I dare not answer
the knock on the door, the voice that says
Now you may become an alien,
the table is set.

Isn't it time to reconcile myself
to darkness in the kitchen, the confession "I have darkness,"
all whispered by one person, all forgotten?


Friday, October 14, 2011

Launch party.

I will be reading from XING tonight at Pete's Candy Store, 7 pm, with Jason Koo and Erin Morrill. After party at Loreley Biergarten, starting around 8:30 p.m.

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Monday, September 19, 2011

The Accursed Lot

(Unrelated, earlier photo of J.C.O., not looking particularly accursed, I admit, but it's such a great picture. Her cat as fat as she is skinny.)

There are those--a blessed lot--who can experience life without the slightest glimmer of a need to add anything to it--any sort of "creative" effort; and there are those--an accursed lot?--for whom the activities of their own brains and imaginations are paramount. The world for these individuals may be infinitely rich, rewarding and seductive--but it is not paramount. The world may be interpreted as a gift, earned only if one has created something over and above the world.

To this, Ray would respond with a bemused smile. You take yourself so seriously. Why?

Always Ray has been the repository of common sense in our household. The spouse, who, with a gentle tug, holds in place the recklessly soaring kite, that would careen into the stratosphere and be lost, shattered to bits.

-Joyce Carol Oates, A Widow's Story


I Heart Maira Kalman.

I picked up Maira Kalman's Principles of Uncertainty by chance at Powell's Books in Portland last month and fell immediately in love with it. In fact, I loved the book so much it pained me to finish it, and I wanted to savor its pages as long as humanly possible.

I sort of didn't know--maybe my subconscious knew--that she was a New Yorker illustrator. Nor that she was one of the people responsible for their famous NewYorkistan cover.

Anyhoo. Maira Kalman. Buy her books! She's so terrific.

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"the purest cinema you'll see all year"

"Brooding, sophisticated and drop-dead gorgeous, Drive is lowbrow trash rewrit as highbrow treasure. Its clumsy coincidences, unnaturalistic expository dialogue and pulpy themes--vengeance, sacrifice, redemption--are brought to life with elegance and gravitas: it's the action movie treated like art, the cinematic equivalent of literary genre fiction. Ryan Gosling plays an unnamed mechanic with sidelines as both stuntman and getaway driver. He's a stoic loner steeped in Jean-Pierre Melvillean melancholy, possessed of preternatural driving abilities, capable both of honorable service and shocking barbarity."
-Henry Stewart, The L Magazine



Sunday, September 04, 2011

BOOK news!!

Xing is now available for pre-order at your favorite online bookstore, Powell's, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon.

To launch the book, I will be reading at Pete's Candy Store in the Multifarious Array reading series on Oct. 14. Please come! Book party to follow (location TBA).

And lastly, Xing and Michael Robins' Ladies and Gentlemen, also due out October 11, will launch Saturnalia Books' foray into ebooks! Hurrah. Now you can read us on your handy lil' handheld devices without that nasty inconvenience of having to turn pages. What are you waiting for? Buy your copy today!


Friday, August 05, 2011

Watching Terrence Malick at Home

My slideshow review of Malick's four films prior to "Tree of Life" is up at Paper Monument. Low-tech forever.

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Thursday, August 04, 2011

The edge of the cape, nearly.

I don't have any particular feelings about the town of Chatham in Cape Cod. It's brimming with money and white people, a little more than the rest of the cape, it feels. You can eat off the lawns, and every inn, house, and boutique wears a fresh coat of glossy paint. But I had wanted to go to the Atwood House Museum, an 18th-century museum I discovered in a little Cape Cod booklet the night before while eating fish tacos at Finbar's in Orleans. Actually, the building, rather one wing of the building, is the oldest house in Chatham, with warped floorboards and an elliptically-shaped basement for storing apples and turnips and potatoes (circles and ovals are stronger than 90-degree angles, yes?) and a borning room near the kitchen for pregnant women and the convalescent. These shells were collected by a Chatham family, not the Atwoods, but clearly they are not native to the area. The shells native to Cape Cod are drab and unremarkable and live in their own little glass case in the middle of the room (unpictured because of their drabness). Is everyone over the Hipstamatic? I still can't get enough. Especially since here the Hipstamatic makes the black behind the displays look so rich, like oil paint laid layer upon layer upon layer.